


A Sharp Blade

by Smiling_Seshat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Body Language, Canon Divergence, Culture Shock, Dimension Travel, F/M, Fish out of Water, Isekai, M/M, Mentor Natasha Romanov, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychology, Rating May Change, Transmigration, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiling_Seshat/pseuds/Smiling_Seshat
Summary: Natasha dies in the fight against Thanos and wakes up... elsewhere. (Natasha as Shen Qingqiu.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who have little knowledge of Scum Villain, don't worry. This story will be from the point of view of Natasha, who will be just as unaware of the setting as you.
> 
> It's been a while since I've posted on AO3, having been busy with real life problems, so hopefully I tagged everything correctly and remembered how to do everything properly.

 

 

 

 

_Natasha had resigned herself to death._

_She knew that she didn’t have the strength to pose a threat to Thanos. In the end, she had to rely on her cunning to work with her teammates and save the Earth._  
  
_And for a moment, when they took the gauntlet from their enemy’s grasp, she had allowed herself to hope._  
  
_But in the end, she died, one among countless._  
  
_She never had a chance._

 

 

 

 

 

 

-x-

 

 

 

 

 

[Activation code: “S **I** t **n** u **f** p **i** i **n** d **i** a **t** u **y** t **s** h **t** o **o** r **n** s **e** t **s** —]  
  
[ERROR]

  
  
  
  
Natasha woke.  
  
Her body continued breathing deeply and her eyes stayed shut. Only the way her heart stuttered gave away her state of consciousness.  
  
Where was she?  
  
She remained still. For all intents and purposes, she was sleeping.  
  
Breathing through her nose gave her some information. Wherever she was, it was isolated, away from any cities. There was no smell of pollution, just the scent of nature. The walls weren’t soundproofed, because she could hear a bird tweeting outside and a light breeze rustling through tree leaves. Unless someone had faked those sounds and scents, then she was not held anywhere secure. If she could smell the outside that easily, escaping should not prove a problem.  
  
Someone was nearby. Natasha could hear the person breathing. The breaths were long and deep. Possibly an adult or a teenager. They weren’t moving, so they were either standing or sitting nearby. Judging by where she heard the breathing come from, the person was sitting on a chair, though if the bed Natasha was on was elevated, that would skew her analysis.  
  
Subtly, Natasha moved her left arm, the one furthest from the other person in the room. Hopefully, her back would hide the movement.  
  
If there was a camera in the room, then she had just given herself away. But by now, she was reasonably sure she was among allies. Her limbs had not been tied up—or at least, one of her arms had not—and it felt like the building she was in was not particularly large nor made to hold captives.  
  
But what surprised her was that when she had moved her arm to test her range of mobility, she had accidentally tugged at some hair lying by her hips. And she had felt that tug on her scalp, which meant the hair was hers.  
  
That was clearly wrong, as Natasha’s hair had been cut short a while ago. She used to have it long, the one vanity she liked to keep, before a mission had required her to cut it off.  
  
Based on how long the hair she felt by her hips was… either someone had given her extensions in her sleep, or she had been unconscious long enough for her hair to grow past her shoulders and reach her hips. If so, then the only possibility was a coma, one that had lasted half a decade at least.  
  
Someone else might have faltered at the thought, but not Natasha. No, she was used to bad news upon bad news, terrible events piling up one after another. Every time she had thought a problem was solved, another one would appear in its place. Loki, Project Insight, Ultron, Thanos…  
  
The idea that she might have been unconscious for years was a relief. After all, she had not expected to survive.  
  
Her comrades must have found a way to save the day, to save her.  
  
A slight movement of her four limbs told her that she was not paralysed and that nothing was broken. She was safe. Most likely among friends.  
  
But in the end, she was still too cautious to lower her guard, so she waited.  
  
Her ears could perceive people conversing outside, but they were too far away for her to make out their words. However, judging by the cadence and tone, the way the conversation was relaxed and teasing, whoever was talking was unlikely to be an enemy. They would not have sounded so laid-back if they were guarding the Black Widow’s prison.  
  
The person sitting near Natasha was not making the slightest sound. It made it difficult for her to gather more information on her surroundings, but not impossible.  
  
Since there had been no reaction to her moving an arm, she deduced that there were either no cameras in the room, or whoever was watching the video-feed was slacking.  
  
All in all, every sign pointed to Natasha being safe. Had she been captured, her surroundings would be quite different.  
  
Confident enough to take a little risk, Natasha opened her eyes.  
  
The first thing she noticed was a little incongruous. After all, everyone could see their own nose. It was between their eyes, and you could usually constantly see the tip of it, though people were so used to seeing their own nose that they wouldn’t focus on it.  
  
But Natasha noticed immediately that something was wrong. The nose she could see wasn’t the one she was used to. It was shaped differently. This was not her nose. And heh eyelashes were darker than she was used to, as if she had put mascara on.  
  
Natasha had no explanation for that, so she put her questions to the side in favour of analysing the place she was in.  
  
The ceiling. White. Gauzy.  
  
The person nearby immediately noticed she was awake and leaned closer.  
  
“Shidi? Are you awake?”  
  
Chinese. Mandarin, to be specific. A male voice. Adult.  
  
Natasha was completely fluent in it, so she could understand him perfectly. But her proficiency didn’t extend to being able to tell where he was from based on his accent.  
  
She looked down at herself.  
  
A white robe covered her body. Old-fashioned. Could she be among Thor’s people, or Doctor Strange’s? Anywhere else, and she wouldn’t have been dressed like this.  
  
But… The robe was slightly open, revealing an entirely flat chest. A male one. And her shoulders were too broad. The shape of her waist and hips was incorrect. She was too tall. And the hair trailing along her body, the hair attached to her scalp, it was an inky black. The colour was _wrong_.  
  
Mechanically, she turned to the person who had spoken, her face showing none of the turmoil within.  
  
The unnamed man was objectively handsome man with Eastern Asian features, dressed in the kind of clothes one would see in a movie about Ancient China. Nobody would dress like that unless they were attending a costumed event. That meant that this man was either an alien like Thor, or a sorcerer, since some of Doctor Strange’s people would wear clothes that were common centuries ago.  
  
But the man next to her had not called her by her name, which made it unlikely he was someone she could trust, especially if he discovered that someone else was in the body of his ‘shidi’.  
  
So for now, Natasha pretended.  
  
She groaned, eyes half-lidded, and clutched at her forehead. “Not so loud...” she muttered in Mandarin.  
  
Natasha had no idea what kind of person this body’s original owner had been. He could have been polite or rude. Either way, if she tried out one of them and got it wrong, the man near her would notice she was an impostor.  
  
So instead of saying ‘Please, lower the volume’ or ‘Shut up’, she had made an innocuous comment that would work for either possibility. And it also allowed her to observe the way the man treated her, so she could have a better idea of how she was meant to act.  
  
The more information she had, the better prepared she would be.  
  
The man’s reaction to her words was an understated wince. He came closer, clearly worried, but also happy to see her awake. “Are you all right?”  
  
“Just a headache,” said Natasha.  
  
She remained curt, knowing that the more she talked, the higher chances there were that she would be found out.  
  
Her face was sweaty and warm, as if she had a fever. Had her body’s original owner been sick before Natasha had landed in this situation?  
  
She squinted, as if she had trouble seeing. “Where… Where am I?”  
  
The man was surprised, which told her immediately that she had taken the wrong approach.  
  
“Did you hit your head? This is Qing Jing Peak. _Your_ peak.”  
  
A peak? They must be on a mountain, then, and one her body’s owner was supposed to know well, it seemed.  
  
But what was most interesting was his first question. If she claimed she had hit her head and lost her memories, it would make it easier for her to pretend to be whomever this body was without risking anyone finding out she was not who she appeared to be.  
  
However, if he was a sorcerer like Doctor Strange, or an alien, then admitting she was amnesiac could have him test her for possession. She wasn’t sure if body-snatching existed for aliens and sorcerers, but considering what she had seen these past few years, she would not be surprised.  
  
And if the man next to her discovered that the sickly person he clearly cared for had been possessed by the Black Widow, who knew how he would react.  
  
The best course of action was to pretend she was who she appeared to be. If she slipped up and people grew suspicious, she could just claim she had been too nervous or prideful to admit to being an amnesiac; whichever best suited the personality of the body’s original owner.  
  
For now, as useful as the amnesia excuse was, she didn’t dare use it. If the man next to her had any medical knowledge, he would know that retrograde amnesia was nowhere near as frequent as fiction would have you believe, let alone permanent retrograde amnesia, and he would become suspicious.  
  
Amnesia would be her secondary plan if something went wrong.  
  
“I feel sick...” she said, looking pale and half-conscious.  
  
“I was wondering why you fell ill so suddenly,” said the man. “I know you’ve been working hard for the Immortal Alliance Conference, but you mustn’t overwork yourself because of other people’s opinions. Our sect has a good reputation, so it won’t be a problem if less disciples attend this time.”  
  
Most of what he said was incomprehensible to Natasha, but her mind latched onto one specific word:  
  
Immortal.  
  
It seemed the man was not as ordinary as he appeared. Could he be an Asgardian, like Thor? Or some other long-lived alien species? Was Natasha even on Earth right now?  
  
Her shock created a pause in the conversation, too long to be natural. The man leaned closer, frowning, and said:  
  
“Qingqiu-shidi? Is it your headache?”  
  
That was her body’s name. Qingqiu. And that term, ‘shidi’… It was used in martial arts to refer to a younger male disciple, just as ‘shifu’ was used to refer to the teacher or master.  
  
Did her body belong to a martial artist?  
  
“Yes,” she told the man, with a smile.  
  
When she saw his reaction, she dropped the smile immediately, adopting a more neutral expression. Whoever Qingqiu was, he was not the kind of person that smiled.  
  
“I just need to rest a little,” she continued, her eyes fluttering as if she had trouble keeping them open.  
  
The man fell for it, his care for Qingqiu apparent. “I’ll tell your disciples not to bother you and let you recover in peace.” He rose from his seat.  
  
“Thank you,” said Natasha. She hesitated, unsure how to address him, and added: “Shixiong.”  
  
The ‘shixiong’ was accepted, telling her she had used the right honorific, but thanking him had made a brief micro-expression appear which told her that ‘Qingqiu’ was not the kind who thanked others, either.  
  
So the fact that Qingqiu didn’t smile was not because he was stoic, but probably because he didn’t have the kindest personality. That thanking others was considered unusual coming from him only further convinced Natasha that the person she was meant to be was harsh, perhaps even cruel.  
  
The man, her shixiong, or ‘senior male fellow student’ in English, gave a reassuring smile and left.  
  
Once Natasha was alone, she relaxed.  
  
Her mind was spinning, analysing everything she had seen and learned.  
  
She hadn’t come to any conclusions yet, but she tentatively believed that her situation was a result of the Infinity Stones. They were powerful artefacts contained in Thanos’ gauntlet, and the most likely to have caused her sudden case of body-snatching.  
  
But the reasons why or how did not matter right now. Natasha’s first priority was to contact her team and find out if they had survived Thanos, and if the Earth had been saved from the insane Titan.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Once her “shixiong” had left, Natasha waited sixty seconds just in case he came back. Then, as she might still be under some form of surveillance, she groaned. Pretending to be sickly and weak, she rose from the bed and went over to the window, as though she wanted some fresh air. On her way there, she picked up an ornamental fan that had been lying next to her bed and opened it up to wave a nice breeze into her face, further selling the charade.  
  
Interestingly, the window had no glass panes. Instead, an animal’s hide had been stretched over the wooden frame, as thin and resistant as the skin of a tambourine. It allowed light to shine through, but blocked the wind and the view of the outside.  
  
Natasha tested the window, and found that there was no lock on it. She easily pulled it open, revealing the view beyond.  
  
Wherever she was, it was indeed far from civilisation. The wooden house she was in was surrounded by a lush and verdant bamboo forest. The skies above were entirely blue, and tellingly, there were no white trails anywhere, meaning no planes had passed by recently. So either she was somewhere remote that planes never flew over, which she doubted, or she was not on Earth.  
  
It was frustrating to realize that she had never taken the time to ask Doctor Strange many questions, too busy preparing for the fight against Thanos, and that meant that she lacked the necessary knowledge to know if she was in some magical dimension or if she had been taken to another planet.  
  
Unwilling to push her luck, Natasha decided to not leave the house immediately. First, she wanted to search this building thoroughly for clues. With some luck, she would learn more about this ‘Qingqiu’ whose body she was in.  
  
The house was made of wood and all of its furniture was elaborate and old-fashioned, with a distinctively Chinese style. There was a room which served as both a bedroom, a living room and an office; it was the room Natasha had woken up in. There was also a kitchen, a bathroom and what had to be a guest bedroom, judging by the lack of personal effects in it.  
  
Tellingly, there was no plumbing or electricity. The bathroom had no discernible toilet, and the bath looked like it had to be filled manually.  
  
Judging by the apparent wealth of the furnishing, as well as the numerous silk clothes Natasha found in a wardrobe, this Qingqiu was _not_ from a third world country where plumbing was unavailable. Instead, it felt as though she’d travelled through time and ended up in Ancient China.  
  
As for Qingqiu, the person whose body she was in, she had managed to find several clues about him. He was very neat and kept his home clean. He had quite a collection of high-quality fans and most of his clothing was green, the kind of flowing robes you would see in a historical movie. The long dangling sleeves and the abundance of fabric would not make it easy to fight, but Natasha had often needed to fight in high heels, so she was not unaccustomed to battling in unpractical outfits.  
  
Another thing she found out about this Qingqiu was that he could play an instrument. She did not recognize the instrument in question, as music had not ever been something required for her career. Whatever instrument it was, it had strings set on a rectangular wooden board, slim and polished. Strumming it produced a nice sound.  
  
But the most interesting find was a sword, sheathed and set on a stand in a corner of the room.  
  
It wasn’t ornamental, and had clearly seen some use. Did it have special abilities, like Thor’s hammer?  
  
Natasha picked up the sword. It wasn’t very heavy, and the way it shone hinted at it being made of some exotic material instead of any metal Natasha was familiar with.  
  
She swung the weapon a few times and was surprised when her body automatically entered a fighting stance, sword held in front of her chest.  
  
That movement hadn’t come from her. Natasha knew how to fight with knives, but she had never been taught to use a sword. The weapon was obsolete in this day and age, after all.  
  
Perhaps she had assimilated Qingqiu’s muscle memory?  
  
A few more practice swings confirmed it.  
  
Somehow, despite not being Qingqiu, she had his muscle memory and could easily reproduce whatever fighting style had had. It only worked if she didn’t focus on her actions and let instinct take over, but it was good news nonetheless, as it would have been hard to fake having this skill.  
  
She swung the sword a few more times, pretending she needed to and was not just delaying the inevitable.  
  
The moment she had to look at her new face in a mirror.  
  
Her insides felt chilled at the thought. She had gone through non-consensual body modifications in the past and was used to having no agency over her own body. Besides, she had gone through events far stranger. Surely, this was nothing insurmountable?  
  
Her brain could come up with all the explanations it wanted. It didn’t change what her heart felt.  
  
And those feelings were a surprise. She knew the Red Room had turned her unfeeling, and though she had been working to undo the damage after she’d left them, some parts of her were too entrenched to dig out.  
  
Eventually, she had to resign herself to the situation and grabbed the hand mirror she had previously found and put aside for this moment. She didn’t pause or give herself a moment of preparation, and immediately looked at her reflection.  
  
Qingqiu was… handsome, she supposed, if one liked the slender librarian-type. His hair was very long, dark and sleek, and gave him a slight feminine look. He had narrow lips and a thin nose, and his eyebrows were nice, the kind that looked good without requiring any plucking.  
  
He looked good. There was no reason to be dissatisfied. The Natasha of a decade ago would have calmly taken in the situation and found a way to complete her mission with her new body. But the Natasha of today paused, staring at her reflection expressionlessly.  
  
 _It doesn’t matter,_ she told herself. _When I manage to return home, I’ll get back to my own body._  
  
Doctor Strange was the most likely to know how to return her to her own body, since his abilities weren’t based on science.  
  
Still, she should count herself lucky. She could have ended up in the body of an amputee, or a person with a deadly disease. At least Qingqiu’s body was healthy and around the same age she had been.  
  
She snapped the fan in her hands shut and went to get dressed.  
  
Finding the right clothes was difficult, as she couldn’t tell the difference between pyjamas and normal clothes. She also knew that in Europe, over a century ago, people used to have day-clothes and evening clothes, and you couldn’t wear an evening dress during the day, for example. Natasha had no idea if that was also the case here and if wearing the wrong outfit could give her away as an imposter.  
  
She regretted not knowing more about Chinese culture, even though she couldn’t have predicted this situation.  
  
After riffling through the wardrobe, Natasha settled upon the most form-fitting clothes she could find. She avoided the robes with long sleeves an opponent could grab and hems that were too likely to trip her.  
  
What she found wasn’t perfect, as Qingqiu didn’t seem to own any trousers, but it was the best outfit available. It was a full-length pale green robe of a rather light material, belted tightly shut, with the edges of the clothing and its collar being a cream white. The sleeves weren’t outrageously wide, but they were still wide enough for someone to stick two arms through a sleeve instead of one.  
  
It was also very easy to slip on, without multiple layered garments to complicate things.  
  
Once Natasha was clothed, she left the small house, Qingqiu’s sword hanging from her belt.  
  
The surrounding bamboo forest had clearly been there for several decades at the very least, as some of the bamboo plants were so thick and tall that Natasha couldn’t help staring a little, having never seen them at such a size.  
  
She could hear noise on her left, the sounds of human beings talking and going about their lives. Instead of heading that way, she went in the opposite direction, intent on discovering more about the area before she met anyone.  
  
The bamboo forest was large, with a few clearings here and there where Natasha noticed footprints, most of them small. Children.  
  
She looked up at the sky, but nothing strange was visible. The sky had only one sun, as expected, and she couldn’t see any moon at the moment. If she was on another planet, then that planet was remarkably similar to Earth, with the same kind of solar system.  
  
After a bit of exploration, Natasha found a small shed in a forgotten area where bamboo was gradually giving ground to deciduous trees. The shed was in an empty area full of tree stumps, and the closest tree was a large Chinese scholar tree. An axe hung from a hook on the wall of the little hut. It was the kind of building that would be used to store gardening material.  
  
The axe immediately got Natasha’s attention. It was much smaller than a sword, and easier to hide. She would have preferred a knife, but she didn’t have many options.  
  
She strode up to the shed and, after carefully looking around to ensure she was alone, grasped the axe.  
  
It was well-made and not too heavy—though perhaps it only felt light because she was in the body of a person taller and larger than her original body—so she held it close to her body, deciding that she would bring it back to Qingqiu’s house and hide it somewhere in case she needed it.  
  
Wondering if she could find something better, she opened the door of the woodshed.  
  
There were several stacks of dry wood set against the walls, and the shed had no floor, only the cold hard ground. And sitting in the middle of the shed…  
  
… was a boy.  
  
It was a teenager, somewhere between thirteen and fifteen years old. He was covered in bruises and cuts, and his clothes were dirty and torn.  
  
When the boy noticed Natasha, his eyes went to the axe Natasha was holding and he paled.  
  
“M-Master? Has this disciple done something wrong?” asked the boy, cringing.  
  
Natasha’s reaction was swift: “None of your business.”  
  
Everything she had learnt so far hinted at Qingqiu being a harsh man. This boy’s appearance and reaction had her mentally replacing ‘harsh’ with ‘abusive’. Until she knew more, that was the person she would pretend to be.  
  
The boy flinched in reaction to her words. While Natasha felt sympathetic, she was too pragmatic to risk discovery by acting too kindly, and so she didn’t reassure the boy.  
  
Instead, she leaned over him and picked up two blocks of wood from one of the piles as if that had been her intention all along.  
  
The boy was still looking at her expectantly, but if she talked any more, she risked saying something wrong and exposing herself.  
  
After a moment, she looked at him coldly and said: “And clean your face. It’s dirty.”  
  
With those parting words, she slammed the door shut, leaving the boy alone in the woodshed. Natasha headed back to Qingqiu’s house while holding pieces of wood she did not need and hoping she had not given herself away.  
  
She did not know who the boy was. A member of the family? A friend? A neighbour? A servant? No matter the answer, she hoped she had behaved like Qingqiu would have.  
  
This unexpected encounter had her more determined than ever to find out as much as possible about Qingqiu so no one would realize she wasn’t him. The next person who saw her might be more suspicious than the boy in the woodshed, so she needed to be ready.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

After exploring some more, Natasha managed to acquire enough information to feel more comfortable playing the role she had been given.

It seemed she was on top of one of the numerous peaks of a mountain. There was a large compound nearby that reminded her of a monastery. The compound was surrounded by a forest. The forest was mostly full of deciduous trees around the front of the compound, telling Natasha that despite how tall the mountain appeared, its altitude was not high. The forest gradually gave way to numerous bamboo plants around the back of the compound, turning into a veritable bamboo forest. It was in that forest that Qingqiu’s house was placed.

When Natasha cautiously explored the compound, sticking to the shadows, she was surprised to note that everyone she encountered was a teenager. Most of them seemed to be exercising, or meditating, or practicing forms with wooden swords. Those that noticed her would stiffen and then hurriedly acknowledge her, calling her “Master” or “Teacher”.

Their reactions helped Natasha build an image of who Qingqiu had been, so that she could better emulate him.

While Natasha was crossing a small inner courtyard, a teenager came over to address her.

It was a boy with long dark hair held up in a ponytail. He was holding a wooden sword.

“Shizun,” began the boy, and it took Natasha a second to remember that ‘shizun’ was an outdated word for ‘teacher’ that was probably used a lot more often around here than ‘shifu’, “this disciple has been working diligently and has improved his sword forms!”

Despite looking like he expected to be hit, the boy seemed painfully hopeful for a compliment.

_Attention-starved,_ Natasha noted, while her mental dossier of Qingqiu’s personality was updated based on this boy’s behaviour.

Natasha sneered at the boy. “Then I expect to see your sparring with the others and proving yourself capable. If you win, then I might consider you passable.”

The teenager’s beaming smile told Natasha that her portrayal of Qingqiu had been too soft. The man was proving to be worse than she expected.

“I’ll work hard!” squeaked out the boy, determination in his gaze.

Natasha didn’t say anything more and headed further into the compound.

In her estimation, there at least one or two dozen adolescents scattered around the compound. She hadn’t seen any other adults yet, and was beginning to suspect she was the only one present, except for the man who had been at her side when she had woken up in Qingqiu’s body. Natasha seemed to be a figure of authority and a teacher. But a teacher of what?

Qingqiu owned a sword, and some of the students were practising sword-fighting techniques, so was this place meant to train soldiers? No. If that was the case, then she would not have seen some teenagers meditating.

Maybe this was an education centre for young men, where they’d learn what boys their age were expected to know? Natasha knew that in Europe, people of noble lineage used to learn how to wield the sword, before gunpowder made that obsolete. Noble scions would also need to know languages, poetry, mathematics, and other skills.

Or maybe Natasha’s first impression of the compound being similar to a monastery was right? After all, seeing some of the teenagers meditate was reminiscent of various East-Asian movies featuring stereotypical scenes such as someone meditating under a waterfall. Maybe this mountain peak was were parents sent their children to gain enlightenment?

And the way that man at her bedside had talked, he had implied that this was Natasha’s peak. Well, Qingqiu’s. So that meant that Qingqiu was the highest authority here and that the compound might even belong to him. And with all Natasha had seen so far, her body’s original owner had been unpleasant, too.

While wandering around inside the compound, Natasha passed by what could only be an old-fashioned classroom. It contained tables with several chairs, all aimed at the front of the room. There was no chalkboard; if this was another planet with advanced technology like Asgard, perhaps they just used holograms to teach.

It was while she was observing the classroom that she head the sounds of approaching footsteps.

Natasha didn’t twitch. For a second she considered hiding in the classroom to avoid encountering yet another person, but if she was caught hiding then it might be out of character enough for people to suspect she was not who she appeared to be. So in the end, she stood her ground.

The person who appeared was the man who had been at her bedside when she had woken up in Qingqiu’s body. It was her ‘shixiong’, her elder martial brother. The one whose name she needed to acquire fast, before he noticed something was amiss.

“Shidi,” said the man, smiling warmly at Natasha, “you seem to be doing better?”

Natasha’s upper lip curled. “I won’t let a fever keep me in bed any longer. There are things to be done around here.” And then, because she needed information, she continued: “I need to check if everything has been going well while I’ve been unavailable.”

It was difficult to know how rude she could act. While she knew that Qingqiu was likely abusive towards at least one of his students, she didn’t know if he behaved terribly with fellow adults, or if he just behaved spitefully towards them. So she had to do a delicate job of balancing between too harsh and not harsh enough, constantly adjusting based on how people reacted to her.

Predictably, the man in front of her took the bait and gave her the information she wanted:

“Everyone has been working hard. Today your head disciple took over the morning classes. Everyone attended diligently, except… well of course Luo Binghe couldn’t...” The man was conflicted.

Natasha raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Her shixiong elaborated: “He’s still in the woodshed after you...” He trailed off.

So that boy Natasha had met was called ‘Luo Binghe’? Well at least that was one name she now knew.

Did Qingqiu abuse Luo Binghe for a reason, or was the man just that horrible a person on his own?

Though what was surprising was the behaviour of the man in front of her. He was clearly uncomfortable with the abuse and disapproved, yet he let Qingqiu get away with it. His body language also indicated a close bond with Qingqiu. Were they family or perhaps lovers? That would explain why this man was so lenient. Or maybe they weren’t that close. Maybe Qingqiu’s natural personality was forceful while the shixiong’s was meek, and Qingqiu managed to push past the other man’s authority to abuse whoever he pleased while the other man was too timid to scold him.

With the knowledge that Natasha would have to pretend to be a teacher, albeit an abusive one, came that knowledge that she would be expected to teach the morning classes her shixiong had mentioned.

“Speaking of morning lessons,” said Natasha, her face containing a hint of disdain, “did my head disciple start them on time?”

Her shixiong nodded. “Ming Fan started on time, yes.”

Natasha didn’t let anything show on her face, but inwardly she was a little annoyed. She’d asked that question to goad the man into telling her the name of her head disciple and the time at which morning classes began; she would need that information for tomorrow. Unfortunately, her shixiong had only given her the name of her head disciple.

“Are you sure he wasn’t late?” she asked with narrowed eyes, as if doubting the man’s words.

If she didn’t receive the information she needed, then she wouldn’t insist anymore, to avoid appearing suspicious.

“He started at eight and supervised the disciples while they meditated to refine their Qi.”

Their Qi?

While Natasha was happy to know when to start lessons tomorrow, the mention of Qi had her curious.

Qi was a term used in East Asia by certain beliefs and faiths. It was believed that everyone had energy called Qi coursing through their body, and some alternative medicines used it to heal.

If Scandinavian mythology had turned out to be real, with figures like Thor and Loki truly existing, could it be possible that Chinese myths were also real? Was Natasha currently in whatever realm Chinese mythical figures came from, the Asian equivalent of Asgard?

Or was she simply in a place that believed in Qi and chakras and other esoteric concepts?

“Ugh, I don’t even know what I’ll have them doing tomorrow...” said Natasha, looking annoyed.

Behaving like that clearly went against Qingqiu’s image, as he would probably be too prideful to admit to lacking a plan, but Natasha had no choice. She didn’t know what to teach tomorrow and hadn’t found any lesson plans in Qingqiu’s home.

Her shixiong seemed surprised at her behaviour, but instead of being suspicious, he looked touched that she trusted him enough to admit such a thing.

“You could have them work on their sword skills,” the man proposed. “Or if you still feel a bit sick, instead of teaching them how to fight, you could teach them poetry or some more guqin melodies.”

The guqin was not an instrument Natasha knew how to play, and her poetry skills were non-existent. But the mention of fighting had given her an idea...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still a bit new to cultivation novels, so if you notice anything wrong in the story, please tell me!
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if canonically, there were times when there were lessons. The webnovel is pretty vague, so I decided that there would be morning classes for the disciples and the rest of the time they're free to work on their cultivation on their own.
> 
> By the way, updates will be on Saturdays. By that I don't mean every Saturday; I just mean that if there's an update, it'll only ever be on a Saturday and never another day of the week. 
> 
> And for fans of Scum Villain, I've recently been reading Who Dares Slander My Senior Brother. It's really good so far, and I think you'd like it.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Natasha woke early. Yesterday, she had purposely gone to bed as early as possible so her body would wake before sunrise. Lacking an alarm and not knowing if this new body was capable of waking up on time without outside help, this had been the only solution she could think of.

She dressed quickly and then tied her sword to her waist.

Before going to sleep, she’d trained a little more with the sword until those instinctual movements were perfectly incorporated into her memory. She had also had a hint as to how Qi worked. By coincidence, she had done something which had made the sword light up. At the time, she had been thinking about testing if the weapon was ordinary or had some abilities like Thor’s hammer or Loki’s spear.

Somehow, the mere thought had been enough to make the sword shine like a star.

After focusing a little, she had managed to reproduce that feat a few times, and experimented a bit with this ‘Qi’, learning how to use it to enhance her strength and senses.

She had no idea what the original Qingqiu had been able to do, but hopefully what she now knew about Qi would be enough to help her continue the charade.

Before leaving the bamboo house, there was one thing left for Natasha to deal with: Her hair.

Yesterday, when she’d gone out to explore, she had noticed that every single person she had encountered had their hair tied up. Nobody had said anything about her own hair being loose, but judging by the various hair ornaments by Qingqiu’s bedside table, Natasha should be wearing her hair up as well.

She knew how to weave hair into various braids of differing complexity, meant to keep hair out of the way in a fight, but she didn’t know how to tie her hair in elaborate buns or topknots like the people she had seen.

In the end, she improvised. She tied her hair up in a way similar to how her unnamed shixiong had his own, and prepared a few excuses in case anyone commented.

Once she was presentable, she left the house.

Yesterday, in preparation for the lesson she would have to give, she had carefully selected a female disciple and asked her to call for Ming Fan, the one who had given lessons while Qingqiu was ‘sick’.

Natasha had done it this way because she did not know what Ming Fan looked like. Having someone bring him to her was the only way she could associate his name with a face. Since Ming Fan was a boy, Natasha had singled out a female disciple to call for him. If she had asked a male disciple, then she would have run the risk of accidentally talking to Ming Fan himself, and asking him to ‘retrieve himself’ would have immediately told the boy that something was wrong with ‘Qingqiu’. Thus the need to ask a female disciple.

Once Ming Fan had been brought forth, Natasha had carefully memorized his features. He had a bit of a square jaw, his forehead was pronounced and his eyes had the kind of shape that made him seem to be constantly glaring. Based on his behaviour around her, he had been one of the people Qingqiu did not mistreat.

Natasha had given him strict orders, leaving no room for questions:

“I expect to see every single disciple tomorrow morning in the field behind the compound. You are responsible for ensuring no one is late.”

She didn’t know where Qingqiu usually gave lessons, so she had decided to just change the area where the classes would be held. That way she would not need convoluted means of learning where lessons were usually held.

Ming Fan had been dumbstruck. “Master will be teaching us personally?”

Those words had made Natasha realize that some of her information was incorrect. While yes, there were daily morning lessons, it appeared that Qingqiu rarely bothered teaching them himself, and would usually foist the chore onto someone else. Qingqiu’s shixiong hadn’t been aware of that, and so his words about the morning classes had led Natasha to believe Qingqiu taught every lesson himself, which was _not_ the case.

Unfortunately, the knowledge had come too late, forcing Natasha to go through with teaching the class, since she had told Ming Fan she would do so.

And so today, the morning after, she headed to the meeting place to pretend to be a teacher, aware that if she had known better, she would not have been forced into this position.

When she arrived at the field, she saw nine disciples patiently waiting for her.

They were all dressed similarly, in what she assumed was the peak’s uniform. Some seemed a little surprised to see her, hurriedly standing straight and pretending they hadn’t been gossiping among themselves. They looked at Natasha with bafflement. Perhaps because they too, were shocked ‘Qingqiu’ would teach them personally? Or were they surprised because their teacher usually showed up earlier or later than this?

At least with SHIELD, Natasha would have intel to help her on her missions. Right now, she was frustrated by the lack of knowledge, especially since every information she received led to a dozen questions and doubts.

“Master, you’re early,” said the head disciple, the young Ming Fan.

“And you didn’t do as I asked,” said Natasha, pretending the boy had not just called out the uncharacteristic behaviour of ‘Qingqiu’. “Where is Luo Binghe?”

Natasha did not know how many disciples she had in total, but she had easily noticed that the boy from the woodshed was not present. She had also not said ‘There is a disciple missing’ in case there were more than one person missing, which would have revealed her ignorance in front of those children.

She sighed as if Ming Fan was the greatest disappointment she had ever encountered. “You have ten minutes. If anyone is still missing by then, you will be held responsible.”

That threat had Ming Fan immediately scampering off to retrieve Luo Binghe. Natasha had also worded things ambiguously enough so that if anyone else was missing, Ming Fan would bring them over too.

It didn’t even take four minutes for an anxious Ming Fan to come running back, pulling a reluctant Luo Binghe along.

“All the disciples are present, Master,” said Ming Fan breathlessly.

As for Luo Binghe, he didn’t seem to have the courage to look at Natasha. “This disciple greets Shizun,” said the boy, voice low.

With Luo Binghe’s arrival, Natasha finally knew how many students she, or rather Qingqiu, had. There were ten of them, most in their early teens, with eight boys and two girls.

“Form a circle,” ordered Natasha, her tone harsh and cold.

At first, the teenagers obeyed by forming a circle around her, but she swiftly corrected them by placing herself between Ming Fan and an unnamed girl, joining the circle.

Once everyone was in place, Natasha explained what they would be doing today:

“One after the other, I want every single one of you to mention how you have advanced and what you’ve learned lately.” She used ‘lately’ instead of ‘these past weeks/months/years’ because she didn’t know how long these disciples had been studying here. “Then I want you to tell me what you think are your weakest and your strongest points, as well as those of the person who went before you.” She paused to let it sink in. “We’ll be doing this in clockwise order.” Natasha turned to the unnamed girl. “Start.”

The teenage girl was a bit startled, but spoke anyway: “I’ve been working hard to refine my Qi and I hope to break through soon… I’ve also been learning how to use it outside my body. My strength is…” She frowned, unsure. “I’m good at the guqin. And my weakness…” That one had her stumped for a while before she could think of something to say. “My poetry?” she suggested weakly. Then, she turned to her right, and blanched, realizing that according to her master’s orders, she should describe his strengths and weaknesses. Unwilling to do so, she shamelessly skipped over ‘Qingqiu’ to speak about Ming Fan instead. “Ming Fan is good at the sword, but he’s a big bully!”

Ming Fan turned red and spluttered.

Impatient, Natasha gestured at the boy to shut up, and asked for the next student to talk.

The purpose of this exercise was many-fold. First, by having the teenagers mention how they had improved, Natasha would learn what Qingqiu had been teaching them. Second, the mention of what their strengths and weaknesses were would give her further insight on what she should teach them in order to continue this charade. And third, by having them speak about the person that had gone before them, they would have to say that person’s name out loud, thus allowing Natasha to learn what Qingqiu’s students were called.

Natasha listened intently as each of Qingqiu’s students spoke, recording their every word in her memory.

When it was Luo Binghe’s turn to talk, Natasha did not feel the slightest pinch in her conscience, even though the boy’s yellowing bruises were highly likely to be the fault of the person whose body Natasha was using. She had witnessed too many horrors to feel pity for such a boy, especially considering she was in unknown territory and too focused on her personal safety to help strangers.

Luo Binghe hesitated, lips twisting. “This disciple is stupid… I haven’t been able to understand my cultivation manual at all...”

He did not seem to be willing to say anything more, so Natasha prompted him: “What are your strengths and weaknesses?” She made sure to sound irritated as she spoke to him, suspecting that Qingqiu treated this boy worse than any of the other students. Her behaviour had to reflect that.

Luo Binghe dithered. “I’m good at cooking…?” When Natasha didn’t say anything, he seemed to gain some courage. “And this disciple isn’t a very good fighter...”

Natasha waited. When he didn’t continue, she said: “And the person before you?”

Luo Binghe looked at the disciple who had spoken just before and stuttered out: “He has a lot of strength and...”

The pause lengthened. Luo Binghe was obviously unwilling to list a weak point, especially since the disciple he was speaking about was currently glaring at him. Daring him to say anything negative.

It seemed more and more likely that all the other disciples took their cues from their master and bullied Luo Binghe. The only exception might be the girl who called Ming Fan a bully, a disciple by the name of Ning Yingying.

After the pause grew too long to be polite, Natasha took pity on the poor boy and ended his torment. With a snort, she pointed at the next disciple. “Your turn.”

When the exercise ended after the last children spoke, Natasha had a few ideas on what she could teach them, and knew the name of eight disciples out of ten. With the information she had gathered, she felt more confident in teaching.

“Ming Fan, Han Wuzheng, go to the centre of the circle,” she ordered.

The head disciple went there immediately, followed by a boy whose cheeks still had quite a lot of baby-fat, making him seem younger than he truly was.

“I want both of you to fight,” explained Natasha. “No crippling moves, and no wounding each other. You win if you’ve immobilized the other person. Understood?”

The two boys nodded, although Han Wuzheng seemed a little uneasy. Perhaps she had inadvertently chosen two opponents with a large gap in fighting skill?

Nevertheless, Ming Fan rushed forth before she had even said ‘Start’, determined to win. Natasha approved of such ruthlessness.

Poor Han Wuzheng barely managed to avoid the right hook in time, and spent most of the fight frantically dodging every one of Ming Fan’s wild strikes.

Natasha kept a sharp eye on the fight, analysing their abilities. Ming Fan had a solid foundation of what appeared to be two Chinese martial arts Natasha was quite familiar with, but his movements were too showy and flowery, as if he was a character from an action movie. There was wasted movement. Not much, but enough for her to notice.

Now the question came, should she bother correcting it? Yes, she had to pretend to be a teacher, but that did not mean she should empower people who might turn against her if they realized she was not their teacher.

Also, Natasha had refused to pass on her skills in the past, not wanting what she had learned in the Red Room to be used by more people due to her instinctive desire to wish to kill off anything related to that period of her life. Many people had been persistent in demanding she teach those skills, but she had always said no, as there were many other fighting techniques that worked just as well and were not related to that place at all.

Now that she was in this situation, would she bother teaching them?

Natasha pursed her lips as she watched Ming Fan grab hold of Han Wuzheng’s hands.

Yes, she would teach these children. Not everything, not even most of her skills, but enough. Enough to fulfil her duties as a teacher and enough to successfully pretend to be Qingqiu.

And in the meanwhile, she would spend every single spare moment searching for a way home, back to where she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter. At first, I wanted to describe Natasha spending her evening figuring out how Qi works and training with the sword using Qingqiu's muscle memory, except it would have been too long to write. So in the end I had to rely on telling instead of showing, and summarized it all. I'm not really happy with the result, but shortening it like that helps the pace.
> 
> Also, I don't know how many disciples Qingqiu has in canon. We know that ten disciples were chosen for the Skinner quest, and since Luo Binghe is the newest disciple, I don't think he would have been chosen for the quest while someone more experienced was left behind. Thus I believe there are ten disciples. Also, I know there are few girls since Ning Yingying mentioned wanting a little martial sister.
> 
> Would anyone happen to know at what stage the disciples are at the beginning of Scum Villain? I placed them at Qi Refining, but I'm not sure if that's correct... I know that Luo Binghe would be at that level since he hasn't been taught much, but what about the others?


	5. Chapter 5

Qi, from what Natasha understood, was an energy found within the body of Qingqiu and who knew how many other people in this world or dimension. She had experimented yesterday, and had found that despite having no memories of Qingqiu’s life, she had kept his muscle memory. As long as she didn’t think too hard, she could use his sword, use his Qi, and write beautiful Chinese calligraphy where Natasha had only ever been able to write Mandarin at a level needed for infiltration missions.

Of course, she didn’t know how talented Qingqiu had been, but she suspected that mere muscle memory didn’t approach how good the man had been at swordsmanship or using his Qi. Natasha was relying on instinct to use his skills, while he had been the one to actually master said skills.

Natasha had found out that the Qi within Qingqiu’s body originated from a point just beneath his—well, _hers_ , now—navel. With a thought, she could circulate the energy throughout her body, and the sensation of doing so was calming and strangely addictive, which was why she had stopped doing so immediately, unsure of repercussions.

Other things she had discovered was that Qi could be used to enhance the body. It could strengthen the body to make it more difficult to damage, or enhance the muscles so that you could hit harder, run faster and jump higher.

What was even more interesting was that the control over this Qi was close to telekinesis. You could move it around the body without gravity having much of an effect. What really caught Natasha’s attention, though, was that Qingqiu’s sword seemed to be infused with the same energy, as if it was made of Qi and not metal, which meant that with a thought, she could make the sword hover in the air.

She wasn’t particularly good at it, and it required a lot of focus, but if she trained, she could use it as a surprise weapon to stab someone from behind while she was attacking from the front.

Regardless of the various uses of Qi, the point was that she had trained enough to acquire some bare-bones knowledge in order to better pretend to be Qingqiu. And now that knowledge was being put to use as she watched two of Qingqiu’s disciples fight.

Ming Fan knew how to use Qi to hit with more strength, but he didn’t do it particularly well, and needed to concentrate before every enhanced punch he threw. That told Natasha that the little she had managed to figure out about Qi using Qingqiu’s muscle memory was quite impressive, as she could do more in one evening than a disciple could after who knows how many months or years of training.

That meant it would be easy for Natasha to fool these students into believing she knew what she was doing. Adults would be much more difficult to handle, but they were a problem for another time.

As for Han Wuzheng, Ming Fan’s opponent, his knowledge of the uses of Qi in battle seemed non-existent. He could barely keep up with Ming Fan and spent most of his time dodging.

The battle was over in less than a minute, with Ming Fan as the winner.

For most people, that would seem fast, but real fights didn’t tend to drag on for long, Natasha knew. Unless the two fighters are perfectly equal, a battle would end rather quickly.

Natasha acknowledged the two boys with a nod when they looked at her, but didn’t praise them, feeling it would be uncharacteristic of Qingqiu. Instead, she ordered them to return to their places in the circle and asked Ning Yingying to come forth:

“Ning Yingying, step into the middle of the circle.”

The next part of the lesson would involve actual teaching, and Natasha felt that the best person to use as an assistant was that girl. Out of all the disciples, Ming Fan and Ning Yingying seemed to fear Qingqiu the less, meaning they had probably been the favoured ones. Additionally, the little Natasha had seen of Ning Yingying so far suggested that the girl was a bit oblivious, although that was unconfirmed. If it was true, then that girl was the best person for Natasha to interact with, as she wouldn’t notice anything wrong with ‘Qingqiu’ and Natasha would not be forced to act abusive in every conversation.

If not Ning Yingying, Natasha would have chosen Ming Fan, who seemed a bit of a teacher’s pet and probably the one the original Qingqiu would have chosen, but Ming Fan appeared smarter than Ning YingYing and knew Qingqiu better, so it was risky for Natasha to speak with the boy too often, even if he was the head disciple. Out of all the children, he seemed the most likely to notice something off about her.

Meanwhile, little Ning Yingying had done as ordered and was patiently waiting in the middle of the circle composed of her fellow disciples. Natasha stepped forward and joined the girl.

“Today,” Natasha began, addressing the surrounding children, “I will be teaching you how to defend yourselves against opponents that are stronger than you.”

Truthfully, she would only be teaching them a few self-defence moves. She might even teach them a martial art, but she would never teach any of the advanced fighting style she had been trained in.

The reason was that she had this small, niggling doubt that everything she was living through right now was an illusion created by some Enhanced person in order to trick her into training a successor, which she had been refusing to do for years. That suspicion did not feel unwarranted. After all, what was more realistic? A case of possessing someone’s body, or being victim to an illusion making her think she was in the wrong body?

Thinking about it too much would just lead to an existential crisis, so Natasha just focused on the current situation, knowing it was better to ensure her safety as Qingqiu before she started analysing how this had all happened in the first place.

“Ning Yingying,” said Natasha.

The little girl snapped to attention.

“Come here.”

Ning Yingying obeyed promptly. Once the girl was close enough, Natasha took hold of the girl’s wrists and crossed them so that the forearms were shaped like an X. Natasha was behind Ning Yingying, her chest plastered to the girl’s back.

“Pretend I am an enemy and show me how you would escape,” Natasha ordered.

She used the term ‘enemy’ because she didn’t know enough about this place to know what other term to use. It felt like a historical setting, so the word ‘bandit’ could have been appropriate, but Natasha didn’t know if bandits existed here or if it was a hyper-advanced society like Thor’s that just looked medieval, and thus wouldn’t have any bandits.

Ning Yingying struggled, but it was clearly a half-hearted effort. Either she wasn’t taking it seriously, or she didn’t want to be aggressive towards her teacher.

“Is this the extent of your strength?” Natasha asked contemptuously, remembering to sneer like she imagined Qingqiu would have. Her tone was not too harsh, as she highly suspected Ning Yingying of being a favoured student that Qingqiu would not have been too mean to. “Struggle like your life is on the line, girl!”

Ning Yingying increased her attempts at escaping, but her behaviour was a far cry from what she would have done if she had really felt she was in danger. In such a case, she would have bit on Natasha’s hands, stomped on Natasha’s feet or even tried clawing at the person restraining her. But Ning Yingying was too polite and didn’t dare to.

When that became obvious, Natasha decided it was time to skip to the next part of the lesson.

“Stop.”

Ning Yingying froze obediently.

“Everyone,” Natasha told her disciples, “pay close attention.” She then turned back to Ning Yingying. “In order to escape this kind of hold, you need to twist your hands like so until the palms face the ground. Then you push your hands down to force the attacker to let go of you, and bend your upper body down while pushing the attacker backwards with your hips.”

Natasha guided Ning Yingying through the motions, and then returned to the initial position. “Now, you try it.”

Ning Yingying didn’t quite manage it on her first try, too hesitant and not forceful enough. But after Natasha made the girl do it a few times, Ning Yingying became much more confident and could use her full strength without being worried about going too far.

All the other teenagers around Natasha and Ning Yingying watched obediently, not even fidgeting or looking elsewhere like ordinary teenagers would have back in the US.

Once Ning Yingying knew how to escape properly, Natasha let her go and turned to the other students.

“Form pairs and practise the move I have just shown you,” she ordered. “I will test you one by one to ensure you can escape this hold, so I expect you to take this seriously.”

When the disciples just stayed in place, looking at her, her gaze turned annoyed and she crossed her arms, head tilting expectantly to the side. Immediately, all the students rushed to obey her orders and formed pairs.

Ning Yingying formed a pair with the only other female disciple, while all the other boys formed duos among themselves. Natasha saw there was a noticeable gape of empty space between Luo Binghe, the body from the woodshed, and the other disciples.

Bullied by his teacher and his peers, isolated too…

It took more than that for Natasha’s heart to soften. Acting kind to Luo Binghe would put her safety at risk if someone realized she wasn’t who she said she was, and between her safety and the happiness of a child, the choice was easily made. It wasn’t exactly kind, but it was the kind of cold logic that had kept Natasha alive all these years.

There were ten disciples in total, so despite their best efforts, one of the boys was forced to pair off with Luo Binghe. It was Han Wuzheng, who had lost to Ming Fan in the spar earlier. Han Wuzheng acted as if Luo Binghe was diseased, unwilling to touch the boy for too long as they practised the moves Natasha had shown.

Natasha walked among the disciples, occasionally correcting their movements so they wouldn’t learn the move wrong. Unlearning a bad habit was quite difficult, so it was important to ensure they absorbed the knowledge properly.

Once she felt they knew the move well enough, she began calling the students one by one to show what they had learnt. She would immobilize them like she had done with Ning Yingying, and have them break her hold just as she had taught them.

Most of the disciples performed adequately, and those that didn’t only needed a few more tries before they could escape Natasha’s hold correctly.

Finally, it was Luo Binghe’s turn.

He didn’t seem too keen on coming close to Natasha, and was eyeing her warily.

Qingqiu had abused the boy, so of course he didn’t want to come closer.

Out of patience, Natasha broke the stalemate: “Luo Binghe, come here, _now_.”

Luo Binghe’s reaction told her that she had made a mistake somewhere. The boy’s eyes widened, utterly surprised.

What had she said that had caused him to react like this? Had she given herself away somehow?

No part of her body revealed her panic. She stayed utterly calm as the boy walked over. Completely business-like, she grasped the boy’s wrists, ignoring the way his breath stuttered at the contact, twirled him until he was facing away from her, and pulled him close.

Anyone else would take his reaction as discomfort at being touched, but Natasha could tell it was the other way around. The child had been neglected long enough to be starved of touch, to the point that he was soaking up the attention of the teacher who had abused him in the first place.

Natasha pretended she didn’t notice the way he trembled and couldn’t help leaning closer to her. If she acknowledged it, then she would have to either mock him or push him away in order to keep with Qingqiu’s character. It was best to just pretend to be oblivious so the boy could have a moment of respite. So instead she focused on the lesson and she said to him:

“Show me what you’ve learnt.”

And Luo Binghe, obedient disciple that he was, did so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's currently two in the morning, so depending on where you are in the world it might not be Saturday. But I only post on Saturdays and the date is correct, so if AO3 says it's the 20th instead of the 21st because it's bound to a certain time zone, I'll edit the publication date later.
> 
> Same for the Witcher fic I posted just before this one - I noticed It says the 20th despite me posting it early on the 21st.

That night, Natasha had a dream.  
  
She was still in Shen Qingqiu’s body, but was dressed as a ballet dancer, clad in black. She performed alone on a large stage.  
  
Among the audience were her teammates, her bosses. Friends and enemies, all were there. Even some of her past victims sat and clapped, blood pouring out of bullet wounds.  
  
Natasha performed a pirouette around the central object on the stage: Thanos’ head.  
  
She was dancing, celebrating a victory, a should-have-been.  
  
And all of Humanity and its allies were celebrating with her, regardless of faction or belief.  
  
Natasha danced, and when she woke from the dream, her heart twinged.  
  
She gave herself one year. One year to find a way home, to presume someone would come for her. To dream. And after that year had passed, she would resign herself to staying, to remaining here, as Shen Qingqiu.  
  
But until then, she had a goal. She had hope.  
  
  
  


 

-x-x-x-

  
  
  
It took two days for Natasha to explore the entire mountain peak. She could have done it faster, but would have ran the risk of someone noticing the odd behaviour. Her current focus of research was inspired by the words of Luo Binghe, the student of the original Qingqiu. The boy had mentioned a ‘cultivation manual’. That implied books. Information.  
  
Natasha had gone looking and had managed to find some sort of repository of books. She wasn’t quite sure if it was an archive or a library, and couldn’t exactly ask. There was a woman working there who didn’t wear the uniform of Qingqiu’s—Natasha’s—students and was presumably the librarian. The woman seemed kind and helpful, but Natasha ignored her and walked straight for the furthest reaches of the library, out of sight.  
  
The woman’s “Greetings, Peak Master Shen,” received no reaction from Natasha, although the name was useful.  
  
It meant Qingqiu’s surname was Shen, and since China put the family name first, that meant the original owner of Natasha’s current body was called Shen Qingqiu. At least she now knew “her” full name.  
  
Once Natasha was in a secluded part of the library, she took a look at the shelves. There were both scrolls and books, which surprised her. Considering her antiquated surroundings, she had expected scrolls only, not books. However, considering Asgard had highly advanced technology despite its archaic culture and language, she really shouldn’t be surprised by such minor anachronisms such as books.  
  
As for the contents of the documents… it was quite a mix. There were techniques for various things such as swordsmanship, meditation, Qi usage and so on. There were also music partitions of all things, probably due to the fact that her body’s original owner had also been a music teacher. And finally, Natasha found what she could only call magical spells—documents explaining how to use Qi to achieve things only an Enhanced could have done back home.  
  
Natasha focused on subjects she was unfamiliar with, which meant anything with the words ‘Qi’ and ‘cultivation’. The cultivation mentioned in these documents had little to do with farming, so Natasha put it on the list of things to research.  
  
The books and scrolls were all hand-written. Luckily, Natasha had been trained on how to read more archaic forms of Chinese characters so she didn’t struggle too much in deciphering the texts.  
  
She planned on staying at the library for an hour at the most. Considering how little she knew of Shen Qingqiu’s habits, staying any longer could invite questions.  
  
A lot of the documents Natasha was interested in were confusing. They assumed the reader knew certain basic fundamentals that Natasha lacked. The texts answered some of her questions, but left her with many more.  
  
Cultivation: It was a process consisting of training with Qi and improving one’s use of it. Doing so could lengthen your life and improve your health. If you were talented enough, you could become immortal and even ascend to godhood.  
  
That description raised many questions.  
  
Was the immortality true immortality, or just functional immortality? Were you unkillable, or did it mean you just couldn’t die of old age? As for godhood, was that a metaphor, or was it true? Did some form of higher beings exist on whatever dimension or planet Natasha was on?  
  
Qi: As Natasha had suspected, it was a form of spiritual energy flowing through every living being, even plants. The ‘veins’ through which this energy flowed were called meridians, and Qi originated from around the stomach area.  
  
Some other words were mentioned in the texts Natasha read, such as Spiritual Roots and Golden Core, but the context wasn’t enough for her to guess what it meant.  
  
Natasha still had some unanswered questions. What should she be expected to know to pretend to be Shen Qingqiu? How much of the information in this archive was common sense? Was cultivation known to all or was it a concept considered secret and not to be shared with outsiders? What was the name of the country and continent Natasha was on? Was she still on the right planet?  
  
Around forty minutes after the start of her research, Natasha heard the librarian coming and hurried to hide the more simplistic documents under complex ones more suited for someone who was meant to know those subjects already.  
  
By the time the librarian arrived, Natasha looked completely engrossed in a treatise on experimental methods to halt Qi Deviation.  
  
The librarian was a woman with a sweet disposition and the kind of shapely body that was so exaggerated it looked like it came straight out of a teenage boy’s imagination. Natasha felt a little pity for the woman, but at least with the use of Qi, the librarian would be able to reinforce her body to avoid future back pains.  
  
“Does Master Shen need any help?”  
  
“No,” said Natasha bluntly.  
  
Judging by the librarian’s flinch, either Shen Qingqiu had never spoken to her before, or she was one of the rare ones he was polite to. No matter which one it was, it meant Natasha had behaved out of character.  
  
“O-oh.” The woman didn’t seem to know what to say. Her eyes stopped on the document Natasha was reading and just like that, her smile returned. “Qi Deviations! That’s a good thing for Master Shen to read about. This one knows he is prone to them—not that he’s a bad cultivator, not at all!—and reading such documents could help mitigate the effects.”  
  
Hmm. That was interesting information.  
  
Qi Deviations were a hurdle to go through on the path of cultivation, from what Natasha had read. They would usually either have a bad effect on your health, causing fevers and illnesses, or they’d affect your mental health, which could make you go through a moment of temporary insanity and attack everything in sight. Those were the most common things that could happen.  
  
Natasha had just been pretending to read the document to keep up the ruse, more interested in other books on more important subjects, but the knowledge that Shen Qingqiu was prone to Qi Deviations meant that Natasha was at risk too. It was in her best interest to learn more.  
  
Snapping the book closed, Natasha gave the librarian a pointed look. “I do not wish to be disturbed while I research.” The tone was a little softer this time, less aggressive.  
  
The librarian still flinched as if she had been yelled at. Natasha had a suspicion that the reason was not that Shen Qingqiu was usually kind and polite to this woman. No, Natasha suspected that this woman was just too thin-skinned to handle anyone speaking to her in such a way.  
  
“I s-see,” said the woman, biting the inside of her cheek. She looked around a bit desperately as the silence lengthened. Finally, her eyes settled on the bookshelves. “I’ll find some more books on Qi Deviations for you! It’ll surely help!” And without waiting any further, she scurried off to do so.  
  
Natasha had too much self-control to sigh, but she wanted to. That librarian was pretty and eager to serve, but not very smart.  
  
  
  


 

-x-x-x-

  
  
  
The library was a sure source of information, unlike the rest of the peak grounds where Natasha risked discovery and wouldn’t necessarily learn anything useful. Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stay in the library for too long, at least not until she learned if it would be characteristic of ‘Shen Qingqiu’ to spend several hours reading, or if he wasn’t that kind of man.  
  
So after an hour, she left the place behind and headed towards the peak’s main building, where the disciples had their indoor classes.  
  
All classes, be they inside or outside, would happen in the morning. Students were left to their own devices in the afternoon. When Natasha had taught a class, she had done so outside, not knowing where the disciples usually had their lessons. It turned out that classes were always held indoors, and the only lessons outside the classroom were sparring.  
  
Natasha was beginning to make a habit of lingering near classrooms, listening to what was being taught. Considering the magical abilities people in the world had, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had a way of sensing her nearby, so she always made an effort for plausible deniability.  
  
She would bring along some paperwork or poetry and pretend to read it in an empty classroom while listening to the class being given in the next room.  
  
It hadn’t even been a week since her arrival here, but from what she could see, classes were mostly taught by the head disciple, Ming Fan. Sometimes, he’d be replaced by Shen Qingqiu, but Natasha had yet to learn how often Shen Qingqiu taught his disciples.  
  
When Natasha arrived, a few books from the library in hand, she took a quick peek into the classroom through the window, whose framework was an impressive wooden pattern.  
  
There was Ming Fan, diligently teaching students how to play a song on a flute. The nine other disciples were following his instructions. The only exception was one disciple who was among the older students, like Ming Fan, and was mostly using the opportunity to work on more advanced tunes.  
  
Natasha narrowed her eyes. Qingqiu had ten students, and yet upon counting, she realized two of them were missing. It took her a moment to remember the faces of all ten disciples and know which ones were absent.  
  
Ning Yingying, the girl who had berated Ming Fan for bullying, and Luo Binghe, the boy who was being bullied.  
  
Where were they?  
  
Natasha knocked on the door. Ming Fan looked up and, upon noticing her through the window set in the door, stood hurriedly.  
  
“Teacher!”  
  
His salute was followed by exclamations of “Master!” or “Shizun!” as the other disciples noticed her and followed Ming Fan’s lead.  
  
Natasha jerked her head towards the hallway, eyes on Ming Fan. He understood immediately.  
  
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told the other disciples. “Please work hard while I’m gone.”  
  
He gave them a little bow and then joined Natasha in the hall.  
  
“What do you need, Shizun?” he asked, eager to please.  
  
“I noticed two of my students aren’t in class,” said Natasha. Her tone remained bland in case it was normal. She doubted those two disciples were exempted from music class, but in case they were, then she couldn’t take a harsh tone without revealing her ignorance.  
  
Ming Fan scowled. “They never showed up. I looked everywhere, but they left the peak! I’m sure it was that damned Luo Binghe who’s responsible! Ning Yingying would never have left of her own accord.”  
  
‘ _Are students forbidden from leaving the mountain peak?’_ wondered Natasha. Or perhaps they could, but only outside of class time.  
  
“Do you have any idea where they might be?” asked Natasha.  
  
Ming Fan shook his head. “This disciple lacks such information. Begging your pardon, Master.”  
  
That was unfortunate. Natasha didn’t have the faintest idea where they could be, either.  
  
“Keep an eye on the other disciples,” she told Ming Fan. “I’ll look for Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying.”  
  
Ming Fan’s expression grew grave. “Do you believe something happened to them?”  
  
“I’ll find out,” Natasha said.


End file.
